Five Times Richie Takes the Initiative
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: ...And The One Time He Doesn't Have To. .:. Virichie through and through. Pure smut and fluff without any real sort of plot. Includes costume!sex and top!Richie. Again, for Cherrie-Keane.


**A/N: Revisiting this fandom/pairing because every time I talk to Jess (Cherrie-Keane on DeviantART) and see her Virichie art, I feel the slight twitch of the urge to write for our meta-human boys, haha. So here I am with a basically Porn-Without-Plot fic because, recently, she made a comment how one person asked for topping!Richie fic recs, and the first one that came to her mind was one of mine. And I thought I should write more for that, since no one seems to write it. XD**

**Oh, and, basically, this is just a fluff-and-smut fic with no real plot. Enjoy!**

* * *

Five Times Richie Took The Initiative, And One Time He Didn't Have To

* * *

_1. Initiating the Kisses._

"Thus far, junior year _sucks_," Richie complains as he plops down onto Daisy's couch. Oddly enough, they started getting really close this past year and a half, and she knows everything. She's his number-one confidant for all things Virgil-related, because she's sweet and she _understands. _It's a decidedly beneficial thing.

"Here we go," Daisy replies with a smile and a roll of her eyes. She sets the bowl of popcorn in his lap and takes her place beside him as she presses play on the remote. She takes a few kernels and pops them into her mouth. "What happened this time?"

"Virgil, trying to be overly-supportive of my coming Out to him, tried to set me up on a date with a guy he knows from another school. Can you believe it? _Blind dating._ He knows I hate it, so why is he even trying?" Richie laments as he shoves a messy handful of popcorn into his own mouth.

"Hey, watch it! Don't get it all over the couch," Daisy snaps, smacking his hand. She then sighs. "I'm telling you, Richie, you need to make it clear somehow. I'm not saying you should tell him how you feel about him –"

"Yeah, 'cause he both know what a disaster that would be; it was hard enough telling him I'm gay and having him freak out for a week, clinging to you and Frieda and avoiding me because he didn't know how to handle it," Richie snorts. He runs a hand through his shaggy blond locks and pushes his glasses further up his nose. He sighs raggedly and smiles at her disapproving frown. "Sorry. Go on."

"I'm not saying that's what you should do," she rephrases, "But you need to at least inform him how disinterested you are in dating anyone right now, and assure him that he's being plenty supportive without playing matchmaker."

"You're right, Daze," he says with a smile. "Thanks."

And for the rest of the movie, he pays attention to it and tries not to hog the popcorn between them.

XXX

Contrary to what Richie must think, Virgil avoided him after he came Out because he realized only just a month beforehand that he's been in love with Richie for longer than he can comprehend, and finding out, suddenly, that it's possible for them to be more-than-friends was a little more than jarring, and he needed time to recuperate.

But now, about a year later, near the end of their junior year of high school, Virgil thinks maybe Richie isn't interested, has never been interested, no matter how many hints Virgil has dropped. So he's opts to be a matchmaker instead, because if he can't date Richie, then maybe someone else should, because Richie deserves someone, and his happiness will have to be enough.

XXX

"Static? Hey, I wanna talk to you about something," the blond says into the headset on his left ear as he skates down one half of the city, and Virgil is across town, patrolling the other. "It's been bugging me, so I thought, you know, now's as good a time as any to bring it up."

"Sure, bro; fire away," the other replies with a shrug as he zooms into an alleyway and sits on his disc and scratches under his goggles.

"Um… Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but I'm gonna cancel Friday. Tell your friend sorry for me, but I just don't want to do the whole blind-date thing," Gear replies meekly.

"Oh," Static returns with schooled nonchalance. "That's cool. Hey, I kind of forced both of you into it anyway. He won't mind. Yeah, that works." The guy was actually really excited to meet Richie, but it's only because Virgil talked him up to sound like the hottest, coolest guy ever. Which, okay, he kind of is in Virgil's eyes, but he couldn't say that he's as biased as he is.

"Good," he says, clearly relieved.

"Um, can I ask why? Just curious. I won't say anything to him, I just wanna know as a friend," the dreadlocked teen asks as he stands and continues roaming the city, hovering above all the cars and people and weaving between buildings.

"…To be frank, V, I have my eyes on someone else. I don't think it'd work out, but I like them too much to date anyone else," the genius answers quietly. "Um, I'm done with my shift. Meet you back at HQ?"

"Yeah, see you soon," Static murmurs before the line cuts off. He blows air out his mouth and rubs his gloved hand over his stubble-covered chin.

XXX

At the Gas Station of Solitude, Richie is on the beaten old sofa, backpack, helmet, and skates removed, but his costume very much intact. He throws a bag of chips Virgil's way, amused when Virgil catches it without having to look.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Virgil asks as he lifts his goggles, removes his mask, and sets both aside on one of the worktables. He rubs his eyes, wishing for droplets to make them stop feeling so dry, and kicks off his shoes. Ripping open the bag, he crunches down on a few chips and watches as Richie blushes and fidgets on the sofa, making room for his partner in crime-fighting.

"No one," Richie says at last. He clears his throat. "So, senior year in a few months. Can you believe it?"

"Rich," Virgil counters sternly. "Why can't you tell me? I swear I won't, like, try to set you two up or make jokes when he's around or something. I'm a jerk of a friend sometimes like that, I know, but if you really like him – which you seem to. I mean, you won't even try to go out with anyone else – then I won't say a thing. I just wanna know."

"Why does it matter?" Richie says quickly. He sets aside his own snack in lieu of a can of soda he produces from the crate on the other side of his armrest. He sips at it gingerly. "You're being kinda pushy about me having a relationship with someone. What's up with that?"

"I wanna make sure he's good enough for my best friend, that's all," Virgil answers honestly. "At least as good I am to you."

Richie laughs at that. "Yeah, sure. Just what I need: a guy who gets me kidnapped by his enemies a lot, and, oh, who totally leaves me behind sometimes."

"I do not! I'm always there to save you again, and once or twice you came to me rescue, remember? And besides, we make the best team. If I leave you behind a little, I always backtrack to you again." Virgil argues.

The blond smiles. "I know, V. I was just teasing," he assures with a nudge of his elbow in Virgil's side. "Want to play air hockey?"

"No," Virgil sighs. "I just wanna sit here a minute. I'm kinda glad things aren't busy today; they've been kind of hectic lately, but only on and off, which is harder, you know, because just when you think you can rest, you can't, and when can keep going, you suddenly don't have to, and it's tiring."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," the other agrees. He sighs as well and spreads his legs as he slumps further down into the cushions. Virgil has to advert his gaze when his eyes linger a second too long on the simple action.

Virgil scratches his chin and pretends to act casual, and not jealous at all (which he might be, okay, despite trying to set Richie up with someone). "Hey, so, seriously… Who is it?"

Richie lets out a frustrated groan and forces himself to sit up, as if he's too heavy to be bothered with the effort it takes to move himself even an inch. "This really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Naww!" Virgil huffs a laugh, waving his hands about. "Not at all! Honest, Rich. It's just, um… the first time you've really shown interest in someone, that's all. So I wanna know, like any good friend would. I swear."

"Hmm. 'F course," the supergenius says with a shove that makes the mocha teen spill his snack on the ragged rug beneath their feet. "'Cause it's not like you have any reason to be jealous, right?"

"Oh, I dunno. I sort of do. What if this guy totally steals all your time? Then when are we gonna hang out?" Virgil remarks with a smile.

Richie laughs. "Yeah, because we don't go on patrols and fight crime together most of the time anyway."

"Pff," Virgil scoffs, waving that aside, "That doesn't count. We can hardly talk during all of that, and when we do, it's to report something we found or if we have any injuries. Nah, man, I mean just like this," and he gestures between them, referring to how they are now: relaxed, teasing, just generally chilling out. "I'd miss it if I lost it."

The blond's face falls a fraction, and he looks away, adjusting his glasses. "Oh. Well, yeah, I guess I could see that, then. I've been jealous for a similar reason, in the past. So okay, I can see where you're coming from, V. But trust me… you've got nothing to worry about." His tone turns rather melancholy as he adds, still facing the other way, his chin in his hand propped on the armrest, "Nothing between me and this guy will happen. Besides him being straight, I don't think it'd work out."

"Oh, um. I see," the electric-powered teen replies sadly. He rubs the back of his neck and elbows Richie gently in the arm. "Hey, um. Cheer up. I'm sure you'll find the right guy. Plus, you never know, right? If you really like this guy, you might find out he's, like, secretly bi or something. Or just homoromantic, or something else entirely. Sexualities are complicated, you know? Not everyone is for-sure straight, even if they act like it most of the time."

"That's true," Richie concedes with a smaller sigh. He turns back to his friend and smiles gently. "Thanks, V. You always know what to say."

"Only with you, bro. The rest of the world? Man, I can hardly come up with anything good, aside from a few good superhero puns here and there!" and he grins at that, and Richie's smile brightens.

Then, oddly, Richie's smile starts to slip away, and his eyes are searching Virgil's face, flickering down and up again, until he blinks and turns his head. Virgil frowns. Richie's never really done that before, and if he has, Virgil hasn't noticed. But just now, that looked like…

"Rich?" he prods. "You okay? You made a face."

"Oh, fuck it," Richie curses under his breath, and then he twists his body on the couch and ducks in, and it takes Virgil's head a moment to register Richie's smooth lips on his own, feeling thin and firm compared to his plump ones, and vaguely is aware of Richie's fingers creeping up the back of his neck, sliding between his dreads.

When Richie pulls away, he sighs and apologizes repeatedly. "Sorry, V, I'm sorry, I know you – It's just. You're the guy, okay? You've always been. And – Uhg. Just. There, I said it." And he shakily exhales again and stands and rubs his hands on the fronts of his suit and then one rakes through his hair as the other supports his back. He isn't looking at Virgil.

He blinks, stares at Richie, and then he's on his feet, although he isn't sure how. Richie looks at him then, unsure and apologetic, and murmurs, "Look, I'd understand if you –"

"Richie," Virgil says lowly. "Shut up. You're thinking ahead too much again." And then he places his hands on the blond's shoulders to still him, and when he leans in, he makes sure it's measured and his intentions are easily understood. He gives Richie a much more languid kiss than the hasty one Richie gave him a second ago, and as soon as he does, Richie sighs with relief and closes his eyes, his hands crossed at the wrists behind Virg's neck.

XXX

_2. Initiating the Dates._

They don't start dating, not in a definitive sense. They have, more or less, always been together and doing things akin to most couple's dates, so the only thing that changes in their relationship is the physicality of it. They touch with more purpose and intimacy than before, stand a little closer, speak a little softer, and don't hide their longing gazes from one another.

Oh, and, Daisy is ecstatic. "Finally fixed the Virgil problem, huh? You just went for it and it worked? Awesome! I'm happy for you two."

Virgil chooses not to put a label on himself about his feelings for Richie, because, like he said, sexualities are complicated, and really, it doesn't matter to him. He knows that he likes his best friend as more than a friend, and that's the solely important fact. The rest is just… technicalities.

But one thing Virgil has some issues with is initiating anything with Richie. It's easy to kiss back, to return embraces and follow Richie's lead; it's harder to know when it's okay to start something himself. He's kind of new with this stuff.

So, more often than not, he gives Richie the controls and lets himself fall into an easy rhythm.

XXX

"My parents are out, trying one of those marriage-saving date-nights," Gear proclaims as he walks into the Gas Station and slips off his helmet, shaking his sweaty hair and ruffling it to help cool off. He has a few bruises on his shins from a tussle with a mugger to protect a pregnant woman and her new husband, and he walks over to lift Static's soiled mask to tend to the small knife wound on his cheek. "Wanna come over?"

Static hisses as a disinfecting cloth touches his cut, and he winces. He gives a wobbly smile. "Are we actually going to watch a movie, or wind up making out?"

Gear smirks and moves to dab antibiotic ointment across the small wound, his thumb gently smoothing over it, caressing the beautifully dark skin of his partner's cheek. Then on goes the square bandage. "It might start out as just the movie, but I make no promises," he replies. "There. You're all patched up, kiddo. Would you like a lollipop for being a good boy?"

"Oh, piss off, _Doctor Foley_," Static snorts, but he's smiling. He lightly fingers the rim of the bandage before dropping his hand to the tabletop to hop down off of it. He packs up the first aid kit and stashes it where it belongs. "But yeah, okay. It's a date. Just lemme go home and shower off a bit. I'll meet you are your house in, like, half an hour, maybe?"

"Sounds good to me," the blond muses, heading to the back room to change into his street clothes; can't be caught as Gear walking into the Foley household, now, can he? And meanwhile, his boyfriend – and it's so trippy thinking that, but that's technically what he is – respectfully stays in this room to change.

They part ways, regrouping in forty-five minutes. But before Virgil leaves home, Sharon corners him with a knowing smile. "Going off to Richie's again?" she asks.

"Um, yeah. Don't I always?" Virgil states flatly. He shrugs. "What's it to you?"

"Methinks the homeboy protest too much. It's not just for a hang-out, is it? You two have something going on. Finally ease all that sexual tension, huh?" she says with a giggle. She shakes her head. "Sorry, little brother, but you can't hide squat from me."

"Dammit, Sharon," Virgil grumbles. He rubs his forehead in irritation, a blush rising on his face that he hopes isn't too visible. "You're awful."

"Oh, it's fine. I won't tell anyone, least of all Daddy. Although you know he wouldn't care, right? He loves Richie. I bet he saw this coming for miles; you two have always been close, but it's been getting questionable since you guys entered high school, you know," Sharon remarks.

Virgil knows his flush is probably visible now, even with his complexion. He turns away. "I don't have time to be harassed. Richie's waiting."

She smiles. She literally bites the inside of her cheek to hold back a teasing comment about making sure he has condoms. It's too soon for that level of teasing, but damn, if it isn't tempting and somewhat adorable, the two being together, even like that. Although she prays she never walks in on it…. _sheesh._

XXX

_3. Initiating the Make-Outs._

When Virgil arrives (opening the door and walking right in; Richie left it unlocked), Richie's shower-fresh and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, casual as can be were he's on the sofa, legs stretched out to the ottoman.

"Hey, V. So, monsters or explosions?" he asks, pointing to the stack of movies on the floor by the entertainment center. "I'm feeling monsters. Something classy, like _Godzilla."_

Virgil smiles. "_Godzilla_ works. I'll put it on," he says as he slides off his shoes and shrugs off his hoodie, hanging it up on his coat-hook near the door. He pops in the VHS and presses play at a distance, using his powers to do so as he walks backward to drop down onto the couch.

As he fast-forwards the tape to the film, Richie wastes no time in scooting up close and nestling his shoulder and entire left side up against Virgil's right. Virgil keeps his arm on the back of the couch, and Richie leans his head back against his boyfriend's bicep.

Virgil settles fully into the sofa, his legs kicking up to join Richie's on the ottoman. "Man, this is so much better than pretending like I don't want to always be this close to you," he remarks mostly to himself, his confession quiet.

The blond hums his agreement and closes his eyes. He tilts his head closer to Virgil's chest and feels his glasses bump one side of his nose as the rim of one side is knocked askew. He yanks them off and holds them up. Without a word, Virg takes them and sets them aside on the nearest armrest to his left.

"Not gonna watch it after all, are you?" he comments simply, a smile in his tone.

Richie hums again, nodding minutely. "Just the background noise is good."

"Tired, then?"

"Well, we did stop a mugging after school today. And that mugger was pretty violent."

Virgil chuckles, his chest shuddering, the ripples felt through Richie's arm and cheek. He smiles, eyes fluttering open part of the way, just as Virgil replies, "Too tired to make out, then?"

"I never said that," the blond answers as he lifts himself up and brings up a knee, his other foot dropping to touch the floor. He tucks half his foot under Virgil's thigh and pivots. One arm loops behind the darker teen's head, the other rubbing over his shirt, above his left pectoral. "C'mere."

He brings their mouths together at an angle that leaves Virg nosing Richie's cheek, but that's just as well. Richie pries open his friend's mouth and kisses him slowly, still trying to memorize exactly how Virgil's tongue feels, how the velvety walls of his inner cheeks and rigged soft palette tastes. Virgil's hand is cupping Richie's jaw, the other falling off the back of the cough to wrap almost protectively around the blond's ribcage, and it's just… _nice_, like this.

Virgil makes small hums and grunts, and honestly, it's the cutest thing Richie has ever heard. It's part of the reason why he likes kissing his partner so much. And it only gets better when he slides his hand down and brings it up under Virgil's shirt, feeling over the heated skin and fit form. Virg breaks their mouthing to breathe, panting softly, his arm along Richie's back moving to let his hand wander down to feel where Richie's t-shirt rides up, and his fingertips graze the band of Richie's underwear peeking out atop his sweats.

Richie takes this opportunity to latch his mouth onto the side of Virgil's neck, which, of course, is perfectly welcomed. Virgil sucks in air and screws his eyes shut, hands grappling for something to settle on. They land on Richie's slim hips, which works just fine.

The blond tries not to smirk as he moves to straddle Virgil's legs, knees plowing into the back cushions of his couch. Virgil grunts once before leaning forward, into Richie's chest, hands sliding up under Richie's shirt to feel his back as his mouth seeks purchase on Richie's pierced earlobe. He licks around the metal before kissing down along Richie's throat, feeling the supergenius crane his neck to help Virg maneuver easier.

In no time at all, Richie is lying atop Virgil on the sofa – they somehow managed to fall sideways and scoot down properly without detaching their lips from one another's, a feat Richie's brain has already figured out but he doesn't really care to explain.

With a few more slow kisses, shirts bunched up under their chins, bare chests touching, Richie open his eyes again and lets up, tugging his shirt down. "Tape's stopped."

"I see," Virgil considers as he lazily lifts a hand to zap off the VHS player and the television screen. "Hardly noticed the passage of time." He laughs and sits up, Richie sliding off his lap. "Your parents might be home soon."

"Pity," the blond sighs. "I was so comfortable."

XXX

_4. Initiating the Cuddles._

Skyscraper rooftops are great. No, really, they're the best. They're high above the chaos of the city streets and houses, of the busy rush of life and stress of family and peer pressure and crime, organized or not. And after a really long week, it's Static's favorite place to be. And, naturally, Gear is with him.

At night, the helicopters are nowhere in sight, and the planes are too high in the clouds. Dakota becomes a circuit of grounded stars, brightly lit and flickering with passing cars and darkened or lit windows of office buildings as people head home.

The young crime-fighting duo have a race up to the top of the third-tallest 'scraper, where the air is still comfortably breathable and there's a nice breeze, and just the right height to see stars past the haze of light pollution and between the lazy clouds. The moon is but a skinny crescent in the sky, but the city keeps the rooftop lit enough to see pretty well.

The pair lay on their backs on the cement roof, hands laced behind their heads, gazing up at the passing shadows inching across the moon and stars.

"We're gonna be college boys in two weeks, Virgil," Richie murmurs as he raises his visor. "It's kind of surreal to think we're been dating for a little over a year, and have been superheroes for almost four."

"Are you kidding? It's _awesome_," the electric-powered teen replies with a grin. He glances around his arm at Richie's profile. "I like being eighteen. I feel… adult."

"You totally aren't, though. Your maturity level is, like, age _eleven,_" Richie teases, glancing over.

"It is not!" Virg protests. "I have the responsibility of an entire city on my shoulders, and I'm mature enough to handle that, aren't I?"

The blond snickers and rolls onto his side, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. "You _share _the responsibility of an entire city with _me,_ doofus. But yeah, okay, I'll give you that one. So you have the maturity of a thirteen-year-old who can baby-sit, then."

"You suck, dude," Virgil frowns, whipping off his glove to slap the side of the blond's arm with.

"Don't give me ideas," Richie say with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, succeeding in making Virgil's cheeks heat up, although he'd never admit to it, and thankfully, it can't be plainly seen.

Richie sighs contentedly and props himself up onto his elbows, thankful the pads on them keep him from scraping himself on the cement.

The dark-skinned teen looks up and gives a half-smile. "…What?"

"Nothing," the other shrugs. He slinks closer and drapes one arm over Static's chest and snuggles down. He closes his eyes and covers one of Static's legs with his own. "I love you, that's all."

Virgil's arms circle his boyfriend's lithe form and he nuzzles into blond locks. "I love you, too, bro." And he hides a grin. Richie's hair smells like fresh night air, and faintly of his shampoo. He rolls them onto their sides and presses their foreheads together.

Richie shifts to peck Virgil's lips before sighing happily through his nose and rubbing small ovals over the fabric of Virg's costume. "We're ridiculous."

"So?" Virgil challenges, opening his eyes, watching Richie do the same. His grip around the blond tightens. "Took us a while, but thanks to you, we can be this ridiculous. Plus, like. It makes sense, the _us_ thing. I dunno."

"No, you're right," Richie murmurs thoughtfully, blinking in wonder at the other. "We've always been a team, and we always will be. This is just part of it."

"Cuddling? Yeah, I guess so," Virgil says before he laughs. He shakes Richie's shoulder when the blond sends him a look. "I'm kidding. I know what you meant."

Richie rolls his eyes and slides down a fraction until he can tuck his head under Virg's chin and inhale clean sweat and worn fabric and cologne. "Keep it up, Hawkins, and I'll skate off 'cause you ruined the sweet mood."

"Me? Ruin a mood? What ever gave you that idea? I would _never_," Virgil grins, but he quiets down and exhales softly, fitting his body into every part of Richie's he can, despite the discomfort of the cool, rock-hard surface of the rooftop beneath them. It's been a rough day – gangs of three meta-humans were wrangled not much earlier – but at least they have this: a moment of peace.

XXX

_5. Initiating the Sex._

"Dammit, V, you could have _died! _They short-circuited you and nearly fucking – Arrgh!" Richie roars as he slams closed the door leading into the Gas Station of Solitude and throws off all unnecessary parts of his costume and storms after his partner, whom seems to be retreating. "Why the hell did you do that? You need to be more careful!"

"What, you think I wouldn't risk anything to protect you? _You're_ the one who needs to be more careful, Rich!" Virgil yells back as he pivots on his heel, less ashamed and more angered, now. He casts aside his own accessories and slams them on the ground; gloves, mask, the whole lot. He points a finger at Richie and walks up close to him, standing his ground. "If I hadn't risked it, you might be beaten worse then a few cuts and bruises!"

"Being beaten isn't as bad as being _dead, _Virgil! God, how can you be so reckless? I would have been fine!" the blond spits back, shoving Virgil by the shoulders. Hot tears burn his eyes and he furiously wipes them with his knuckles. "Don't ever s-scare me like that again!"

"Jeez, Richie, it wasn't that bad. I was going to be fine, too. I know my limits," Virgil mutters heatedly, but not nearly as angry as before. Richie's voice shook on the word 'scare' and it was enough to bring him down a few notches.

"Yeah, and I know mine. I'm not a damsel in distress for Christ's sake," the blond snaps. He pushes Virgil up against the nearest wall and more or less pins him there (Virgil could move away if he really wants to. He's stronger than Richie, after all). "So next time, don't be an arrogant ass, got me? Because then you just might actually get killed, and where would I be then, huh?"

And he nearly devours Virg's mouth then, fervently crushing their lips together and nipping at Virgil's bottom lip before thrusting his tongue in and sucking on Virgil's tongue.

Virgil moans and his hands fly to Richie's ass, squeezing and releasing and yanking him closer and closer.

The blond makes quick work of their costumes, tugging down their lower garments, working around zippers and belts and underwear until he can grip Virgil's hardening length in his fist.

Virgil hisses and groans low and gruff in Richie's ear, breath hitching, his pants hot on Richie's neck. The blond works him to full hardness, and just watching Virgil's arousal on his face and feeling him has Richie full erect. He brings their members together and pumps them, Virgil clutching Richie's hips, fingers trembling as he tries to glance between their chests to look down.

Virgil's longer, of course – he's grateful for his genetic stereotype, for once – but Richie is thicker, and it's always nice to see the contrast, and he shivers pleasantly as Richie shallowly thrusts against him, grinding their lower bodies together. Virgil clutches almost helplessly against it, the friction dry and nearly painful, and not satisfying enough.

"Rich…" he breathes pleadingly.

The blond kisses Virgil's ear and neck and murmurs with a buzz of lips on skin, "I know. Gimme a sec."

And then the heat of Richie's body leaves Virgil, his hands gently prying Virgil's off his hips. He tugs up his pants enough to walk over to a drawer, and Virgil slumps back against the wall, wincing slightly as the chill that ghosts over the head of his length.

Then Richie's back again, and with a small tube of lubrication in his hands, along with a condom packet. Virgil raises a brow, a smile tugging up one corner of his kiss-swollen mouth, and the blond blushes. "What? I thought ahead, in case we ever did it here."

Virgil would laugh if he weren't so breathless and horny. He smiles instead, turning around.

Richie kisses the back of Virgil's neck while he squirts lube onto his hands and warms it with a quick rub of his palms. He runs his palms over Virgil's ass before sliding between the cheeks and rubbing over Virgil's entrace, relaxing him prior to slipping one digit inside.

Virgil tenses and then melts, head dropping as a choked moan escapes him. His hands slide down to shoulder-height, his elbows giving him some leeway for when he'll be –

His thought breaks off as Richie adds a second digit, his fingers delving in and out gently, twisting and pressing in just the right places to take the edge off, making the slight burn fade into the background as the odd, pleasing sensation of being filled and rubbed in the right ways takes affect.

It's after a third finger of Richie's is added that he starts going a bit deeper, his fingers curving just-so to make Virgil arch his back and lift his head to the ceiling, eyes flying open and fingers spreading on the wall. "There, there," he pants, and Richie hits it again, and Virgil groans.

"Think it's high time I change tactics, don't you?" the blond murmurs, and he slowly withdraws his hand, making Virgil embarrassingly whimper at the loss right when the contact was getting good. But he hears the tearing of the condom packet and Richie unused hand of lube sliding along a rubber-covered shaft, and he licks his lips greedily. "Okay."

It's the only warning Virgil receives before he feels the tip press against his entrance, sliding in without much of a hitch and filling him completely. He closes his quivering eyelids and presses his burning forehead to the coolness of the wall. God, he'll never get tired of feeling Richie inside him. There's something about it that goes beyond sex (which feels amazing anyway) and is just… meaningful. He doesn't know, really, but whatever it is, he likes it. Don't get him wrong, he likes being in Richie, too, like the few times Richie insisted on climbing into Virgil's lap and guiding himself onto Virgil's prick, but this is just as good.

Richie covers one of Virgil's hands on the wall with his own, fingers lacing and overlapping. The other is stationed at Virgil's hip as he pulls himself mostly out and then back in again, getting faster with every thrust. Virgil tips his head back and moans Richie's name a few times, he thinks, but he can't be sure. All he feels in the burst of pleasure every time Richie goes in to the hilt, and feeling himself leak pre-come as the blond picks up speed until there's that deliciously dirty sound of slicked, slapping skin.

"_Virg,_" Richie pants in the other's ear, chin digging a little into Virgil's shoulder, but that's okay, it really is, because everything else feels amazing.

His hand gets instantly clammy and cold Richie removes his from Virgil's on the wall, but Virgil doesn't mind because that cream-colored hand decides instead to grip Virgil's member and work it in time with his thrusts, and Virgil's pelvis suddenly can't control itself as he presses forward and back, into Richie's hand and onto his dick, and yeah, okay, this might have made risking his life even more worth it, because I'm-so-glad-you're-okay, desperately-and-sensually-fucking-you-into-a-wall sex is kind of the best kind Virgil can think of to have, as far as his sort of career goes.

He comes prematurely, jerking his hips and shuddering from head to toe, his spasming body making Richie moan because he can probably feel it all around his shaft, and God, that _would_ feel fantastic.

Richie's hand drops from Virgil's softening erection and grips Virgil's other hip, not relentlessly pounding into him, and Virgil clenches his teeth because oh no, oh no, that's _way_ too good; he's still riding out the final waves of his orgasm and now his prostrate is being struck at the perfect angle every time, and the wall is probably the only thing keeping Dakota's number one superhero up, because if it weren't for this damn wall, he'd have dropped to his knees from the sheer sensory overload of it all.

And then he feels Richie's own climax rock him, his body tensing inside Virgil and filling the condom. He pulls out very slowly, and once he's back a step, Virgil _does _fall to his knees. He pants and braces himself against the wall – spattered with his own come, oops – and turns his head to peer at the blond in his peripherals. He's on his knees, too, just behind the mocha teen, knees apart and arms braced behind him. Virgil smiles indolently, loving Richie's flushed, post-coital facial expression.

"Are we good, now?" Virgil says in jest, albeit still a tad breathlessly. "Not mad at me anymore?"

"I stopped being mad at you when I kissed you," Richie smirks, head lolling forward as he strips off the condom and ties it. "And next time, I wanna be fucked against the wall; that looked like a good idea."

"It was. But I'm facing you next time."

"That's fine," Richie smiles. "I know how you like my legs around you."

"Mm, that I do," Virg remarks idly as he shuffles himself around and shimmies into Richie, hugging his stomach. He smells sweat and sex and Richie, and it's like a comfort to him.

"You're so weird," the blond says, but he leans down and lifts Virgil's chin, kissing him again anyway.

XXX

_1. When Virgil Initiates All of the Above_

Now, Richie doesn't care that he's always the one to trigger the romantic things between them. It's fine. He doesn't seem himself as greedy or needy for attention, and knows that Virgil prefers it when Richie comes to him first. But sometimes he wishes it weren't that way, and just once, Virgil would seek him out and initiate the first touch, or kiss, or whatever.

XXX

Richie locks up his apartment and shuts off all the lights. He's already brushed his teeth, changed into a baggy shirt and pajama pants, and taken out his contact lenses.

He shuffles into his bedroom, yawning, and crawls into bed. He settles under the covers and closes his eyes, yawning once more before drifting off into a hazy doze. He faintly hears a buzzing sound and the slide of a window, but it doesn't register as reality, merely comes off as part of his pre-dreaming.

He snorts awake, however, when he hears: "Rich. Hey, Richie. Babe, you awake?"

The blond sits up, rubbing his eyes, and yawns noisily. "Hmm? V, that you?"

"Who else would it be?" Virgil whispers with a hint of a smile, rolling his eyes as he climbs in fully through the window. "Lost my key. You'd think I would've static-clung it permanently to my skin or something with how I keep misplacing it, but, well. I'll find it again eventually."

"You should have told me you were coming home tonight," Richie mumbles as he slides over in bed, rolling onto his side to watch Virgil's silhouette in front of the now closed window. "I thought you'd be gone another two days, 'r else I wouldda stayed up and left the door unlocked f'r you." He's slurring a bit from pre-sleep drowsiness, he's aware, but at least he's understood.

"Nah, it's fine. I wanted to surprise you by coming home early," Virgil chuckles softly as he shrinks his disc down to size with a glow of purpley-blue. He tosses it into the corner. Then he shrugs off a majority of his clothes, leaving on only his boxers and his socks. Richie can barely keep his eyes open while he watches. Soon, Virgil slides into bed with his partner. He exhales loudly. "Man, the League is pushy. I'm just lucky Superman is such an understanding guy. You know he told me with a _wink _that it was cool if I went home earlier than agreed because I was 'done with my job'?"

Richie snorts a laugh and rolls onto his back. "Well, it's like not it's a secret you have someone to go home to."

"True," Virgil allows as he stretches and yawns. "Um. Hey, Rich?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed ya."

Richie smiles. "Yeah, I missed you, too. I decided that three weeks is way too long without you."

"One week is too long. Three was torture," Virgil replies. He rolls onto his stomach and buries himself in Richie's side, arm wrapping around his waist.

"Guh! – V, what're you doin'?" the blond man asks with a sleepy grin. "'M tired."

"So'm I. But never too tired for this." And he leans up, his body brushing Richie's as he moves to hover over him, lips descending without a second thought.

The blond makes a muffled chuckle in the back of his throat before brining his hands up to run over Virgil's shortened hair and down his bare back. After a languid, tender kiss, Richie murmurs, "Okay, maybe you're right; I'm never too tired for that, either." And he notices plainly that this is the first time Virgil has taken the initiative, but he doesn't comment on it. Wouldn't want to bruise that ego of his.

Virg takes Richie by the arms and rolls them over, leaning up to kiss him before yanking off his shirt. "Or this, I hope. I haven't seen you in weeks; tired or not, I can't let you off the hook without a little touchin' an' lovin'."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Richie says as he takes one of Virgil's hands and places it over his breastbone, his heart rate apparent. "Feel that? I can't be drowsy when that's going on, so you have my full attention now."

"Oh, good," Virgil huffs a laugh as he brings the man down with a hand behind his head, locking lips again, tongue meeting somewhere in the mix and tangling in such a well-practiced manner that it's like riding a bike.

And this time, Virgil is the one to first grind their lower bodies together, and Virgil is the one to slip his hand into Richie's boxers before the blond man can bear him to it, and Virgil is the one to take Richie's member into his mouth and bring him to orgasm first, not the other way around. And it may or may not make the blond happier than he's been in a long while, but instead of specifying so, he merely enjoys the post-coital cuddle and falls asleep readily, Virgil beating him to it by mere seconds.


End file.
